


Phototaxis

by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Antennae, F/M, Here's the smut tags:, Large Cock, Mothman, Moths, Mythical Beings & Creatures, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Size Kink, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Wings, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24063736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/pseuds/thewayofthetrashcompactor
Summary: Rey goes out scavenging during a full moon and comes across a strange creature. And there's something in the air...
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 24
Kudos: 178
Collections: Sex Pollen to the Rescue





	Phototaxis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persimonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/gifts).



> Happy Revenge of the ... Seventh? It is actually a full moon tonight though, so I'm counting this as on time for that.
> 
> For Persimonne, a wonderful human being. Hope this makes another day of quarantine better! <3 Mothlo here is based on her [gorgeous](https://twitter.com/persimonne666/status/1251235785438789633?s=19) [edits](https://twitter.com/persimonne666/status/1251197181119340553?s=19%22)
> 
> The last couple fics I've posted have been more soft and fluffy, and this is 6k words of moth porn, so please check the tags if you haven't!

Rey hops over a fallen log, humming to herself as she strolls through the moonlit forest. Her destination lies just ahead, and she’ll get there in plenty of time to gather the plants she’s come for in the height of the full moon. Her backpack bounces against her, waiting to be filled with the precious ingredients for her potions. Rey spent years making do with whatever shitty ingredients she could gather from Plutt’s stores or out of people’s garbage, so she takes a special pleasure in being able to make these trips now that she has her own shop and can travel to the best places to replenish her stock. 

The trees thin out in front of her, and she picks up her pace in excitement, stepping easily around roots and thorn bushes. She emerges from between two young oaks, and a smile tugs at her lips. The field spreads before her, grasses up to her knees dotted throughout with wildflowers cast in shades of silver by the moon that hangs close overhead. Night creatures chatter, their sounds filling the air: the rasping of insects, owls calling soft and low, and somewhere in the distance, what might be a deer rustling through the underbrush. She breathes in deeply, letting the sharp scent of growing life in the night breeze fill her lungs. The nights have warmed as spring heads into summer, and the plants swaying around her have flourished, growing green and lush. Perfect. 

Rey slips off her backpack and takes out the first of her carefully prepped and labelled bags. She starts at the edge of the forest, picking out the golden honey blossoms. Their warm scent soothes her. They’ll be plenty potent in any potion for relaxation. She finds other useful plants as she goes and takes small snippings of each. Some she knows, some she plans to experiment with. Most of her training as a witch is self-taught, but it’s worked for her so far. 

A bunch of starflowers catches her eyes further out in the meadow, and she threads through the grass to seek it out. The small blue flowers crowd together, and she cups them in her hands, breathing deeply before she carefully picks what she needs. She can’t help but smile at the bright blossoms, remembering the stories of old castles overrun with their delicate tenacity. 

She wanders deeper into the field, brushing her hands over the grasses as she goes. She steadily fills her bags and pockets, gathering enough to keep her well-stocked for weeks to come. Every so often she stops to tuck a flower into her hair. There’s no one to see her, but it makes her feel even more the witch, barefoot and adorned in flowers under the full moon. She hears the sounds of the animals around her: a quick brushing of grass blades against each other as something runs through them, the snap of a twig further off, the flap of wings overhead. Her instincts make her want to seek out the source of those noises, but she concentrates on her task, passing them off as the rest of nature enjoying the warm night. 

The moon has passed its peak and she’s walked further than she meant to from her path when she starts to consider heading back home. It’s hard to want to give up the brush of the night air over her skin and the earth under her feet. Her light sundress swirls around her thighs, the only thing between her and the caress of the moon over the rest of her body. She’s starting to curve back towards where she started when she catches sight of a flash of red clustered on the ground another several steps away. 

She rushes over, kneeling on the cool ground. The red turns out to be exactly what she hoped, a patch of queen’s heart hidden deep in the grass. She can hardly believe her luck. She plucks a few of the flowers and their heady perfume quickly fills the air around her. She’s only been able to use pinches of the dried flower before, and her mind races with what she could try with the fresh blooms. Queen’s heart is well-known for its ability to inspire confidence, to dangerous levels if used improperly, as well as the kind of charms she’s heard about in giggles from other witches, using it to find one’s destiny or soulmate. She’s never fully believed those stories, but they have made her wonder about its use in divination, and now she can try for herself. 

She lets herself think of the kind of true love the rumors say she could find with this flower as she gathers it. Some say to use it in a tea, others as incense, and still others to tuck it under your pillow before you sleep (best done on a night of power, of course). She’s never had much time for those things, constantly fighting to survive. She still has to work hard at her shop these days, but it’s nothing like it used to be. She has time for herself and has even found friends. Maybe she could try looking for a partner, just for fun. No one’s really caught her attention before, but it couldn’t hurt to try one of those old wives’ tales with her new find. It could even be useful to her work.

The scent of the flowers suffuses the air around her as she works, until she can taste the sharp spice of them. It builds her excitement, setting her heart pounding and her breath come more quickly. She starts to understand what people say about the effect of the flowers. She feels like she could do anything right now, like she’s connected to the magic in the nature around her. The power in the flowers almost overwhelms her. She can’t wait to get it back home and start working with it. 

She gets so lost in her work and the perfume swimming around her that she doesn’t notice the sound of wings until they’re almost on top of her. The only warning she has is the heavy flap of something much larger than an owl before it lands with a soft thump behind her. She whirls around, petals scattering on the ground. For a moment, she wonders if one of the effects of the queen’s heart is some kind of hallucinogenic, because what she sees makes no sense. Then it moves, bending to look back at her, and she realizes the creature is all too real. 

At his full height, he stands several inches taller than her, seeming to loom even larger with the feathery antenna waving around his head and the way magic gathers in shadows around him. The moonlight casts his features in proportions that can’t be described as human, surrounded by thick dark waves of hair that contrast with almost luminescent skin. Dark lines streak along the sides of his face, adding to its otherworldly aspect. The shadows seem to clothe him, obscuring most of his body. She can make out almost-human fingers tipped in claws before her gaze leaps back up to his face. His eyes lock onto her, full black but with a bright red sheen. Dusty black wings flare out behind him before settling back over him like a cloak. 

She swallows. Fragments of stories of a moth-like hybrid that haunts the mountains come back to her. The unaware humans always described it as appearing in places of power, so she’d assumed it was some odd effect of the magic in those spots. She’d never believed such a creature could exist, but she's learning lots of things very quickly tonight. 

The creature continues watching her. His dark eyes make it hard to follow his gaze, but she can feel it as it passes over her body. A heat starts to build in her core. She likes the way he looks at her, heavy and intent. 

He takes in the red petals around her. His head cocks and he crouches to her level, bringing his huge body breathtakingly close. “You came here for the blood blooms?” he asks. His voice comes out deep and low, vibrating at a frequency that seems to resonate in her chest. 

“Blood blooms?” she asks, finding air harder to come by than it had been before. 

He reaches out, and for a moment she thinks he’ll touch her. Her heart skips a beat in anticipation. Instead, it extends past her to pluck a few flowers from the ground. He examines them, then offers them to her. “The flowers of my line,” he says, and it takes a second for those words to sink into her mind and start to make sense. She furrows her brow.

“Your line? You made these?” The myths she’s heard tell of a forbidden love and blood spilled, but who knows how those stories get started. 

He frowns back at her. “The magic did,” he corrects. 

She has a hard time making her thoughts form any kind of coherent pattern. The flower’s perfume still tangles through her head, and she’s somehow talking to a mothman cloaked in power. Everything feels thick and hazy, like a dream. That would make more sense than what’s happening. She pinches herself, but it hurts and she doesn’t wake up. “Magic created these flowers? For you?” she asks. Even her tongue feels thick. 

He shakes his head. “Not me, not for us. They came from the curse and what happened then.”

This conversation still refuses to resolve itself in any sort of sense she can recognize. She tries another tactic. “Can they really do what everyone says they can?”

His full lips curve up in response. “Not for everyone who tells such tales,” he says, loading the words with intent. “The strongest magic only works for those under the curse.” 

She mulls over that. “Like you?” she suggests. 

His enigmatic smile widens. “Yes. Me and mine.” He leans in further until his face fills her vision. She notices that she’s not the only one struggling. He breathes in quick pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His lips remain parted, and the weight of his intent on her becomes even more pointed. “What’s your name, witch?” he rumbles. 

“Rey,” she says on a sigh. She can’t figure out where to look: his ruddy lips, his rich hair that she wants to sink her hands into, or the dark eyes that seem to gleam even brighter. 

“Rey,” he repeats, saying her name like he’s tasting it. A shiver runs through her in response. 

“What’s yours?” she pants. She wants to touch him, see if his skin feels as soft as it looks. She wants it like she hasn’t touched another creature in years, like she’s been starving for it all this time. 

“Ben,” he responds. He sways even closer to her. She swears she can taste him in her every breath, honey and moonlight. “Witch Rey, may I touch you?” HIs voice has gained a rough edge, letting her know she’s not alone in her desperation. 

“Please,” she begs. Almost before the word finishes leaving her mouth, his hands are on her, carrying her back to the ground behind her. She lands in the patch of flowers, sending another cloud of perfume into the air around them. They groan in unison. His hands tighten on her waist and she reaches up for him, needing her hands on him more than she’s needed anything she can remember. 

The first touch of her hands on his bare skin is like soothing water over her burning nerves. She smoothes her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, marvelling in the silken feel of him. He’s all soft flesh over hard muscle, broken every so often by some old wound or scar. She wants to know where every one of those came from, what kind of life he’s led to gather so many, but her head doesn’t have that kind of clarity left any longer. Only one thought consumes her. 

“Kiss me,” she murmurs, pulling him down to her. He’s only too eager to oblige. 

His lips are as soft as the rest of him, taking hers in a hungry embrace that leaves her in no doubt that he matches her desire. He can’t seem to stay still, taking her lips again and again, quick tastes that leave both of them thirsty for more. She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, feeling a ruff of thick and curly fur around his throat. She angles her head for him and deepens the kiss. He makes a pleased noise she feels where his chest presses against hers and flicks his tongue out when she opens her mouth to him. His tongue feels different from hers, longer and thinner, and it flicks into her mouth like he’s drinking from her. His clawed hands dig slightly into her back, and that prick of sensation arches her into him, rubbing their bodies together. 

Every inch of her skin feels sensitized, like her nerves pick up on each speck of pollen floating in the air. She wants him to cover her and take that away until the only thing she feels is him. The light cotton sundress that had seemed so soft and thin when she’d put it on to leave the house now rasps like sandpaper between them, almost agonizing on the sensitive skin of her breasts and stomach. She wriggles in discomfort, and Ben pulls back. She feels ripples of concern in the magic radiating between them. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and reaches down for the hem of her dress. “Need more,” she insists. 

His eyes widen in understanding. “Let me help,” he says, and his hands join hers in pulling the dress over her head. She throws it aside, uncaring where it lands. She breathes a sigh of relief at being free of it. 

Ben hovers over her, taking in her bare body, lips parted as he pants. “So beautiful, Rey, so powerful.”

She rolls her body, arching her hips and breasts, delighting in the attention. Her core clenches, wetness gathering between her legs. One of Ben’s hands braces him on the ground while the other hovers over her, as if unsure where to touch first. She makes his decision for him, taking his wrist in both her hands and bringing it to her breast. He gasps, and she grins. She spreads her hand over his, encouraging him to cup her breast. He does, black eyes wide in awe. 

Once she gets him started, he’s quick to continue his exploration. HIs claws trace gently over the curves of her breast, raising lines of brilliant sensation on her skin. He starts at the delicate underside, swirling in strange patterns, slowly approaching her nipple. Impatient, she thrusts further into his touch, so that he drags over the sensitive tip. She moans in delight. He seems to enjoy the sound, because he does it again, drawing more desperate noises from her throat. She takes her other breast in her own hand, rolling the nipple between her fingers. Her callused touch contrasts to the drag of his claws, and pleasure starts to well within her. Her breasts have always been sensitive, but nothing has ever felt like this. It could be Ben, or the flowers, or the magic of the full moon, but she’s so grateful to have captured whatever combination of fate allowed this to happen. 

Her free hand snakes up his arm to return to his chest, feeling out the contours still partially shrouded in darkness. She gropes at him, finding the curve of his pectoral and scraping her nails over his nipple. He groans, handing his head so that his hair hangs around his face. The shadows recede from his body, and then the man crouching over her looks like he could’ve been born from the moon, dropped out of the sky in a ray of silver light and poured into supernatural form. His feathery antenna sway above her head, brushing her hair. His wings flare over them, their shadows dancing around the edges of their little bubble, protecting them. She sucks in an awed breath, and he tilts his head up to look at her, the brief tension easing from his body at her expression. 

“You’re gorgeous,” she breathes. She pulls herself up to meet him in another kiss. Their tongues tangle, sharing the taste of the pollen between them. Her blood burns through her veins. They’re close, so close, but it’s not enough. There’s a slick ache between her thighs, and she wants him to fill it. Her hands caress his chest and start drifting downward, mapping out his body as she goes. 

He jerks when she reaches his hips, and she pulls back to look at him. His breathing has grown even harsher, like he can’t get enough air. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against her while his hand runs up and down her side.

“You feel too good,” he murmurs. A rush of warmth rolls over her. Her touch and whatever magic is swirling around them have brought this magnificent creature to this. She’s ready to see what other reactions she can draw from him, but waits as he catches his breath. The more they breathe, the more the perfumed air sinks into their lungs pushing them past the point of no return. She wouldn’t pull away from him now if she could, and by the way his body cages her against the ground, he must feel the same. 

Ben inhales deeply then fixes his lips back on hers. She makes a pleased noise into the kiss and slowly lets her hand drift lower again. He doesn’t stop her, instead pushing into her touch. She grins against his lips. She only caught a glimpse of the thick length down here as he held himself over her, but she’s eager to explore further.

Something firm and wet brushes her wrist, and her grin widens as she takes hold of her goal. Ben gasps. His lips tear from hers to inhale more of the perfume-soaked air before returning again, tongue diving into her mouth to twine with hers. Rey’s hand circles around his cock, or what she assumes must be his cock. She hasn’t had much of a change to explore magical mothman anatomy, but she intends to make up for that lack in her education very soon. The thick length in her hand feels heavy enough to fill that ever-increasing ache inside of her. Ben’s groan into her mouth tells her he likes her hands on it as much as she likes touching it. 

Her hand can’t quite close around the width of him. She squeezes lightly, pulling another deep groan from Ben. The skin under her touch feels as soft as his wings look, but instead of the smooth column interrupted by veins she associates with human cocks, his has thick ridges along its length, pulsing under her grip. She shivers thinking how those will feel inside of her. The tip drips with liquid, and she brushes her fingers over that, using it to smooth the glide of her hand over the rest of him. Ben starts panting against her, rocking his hips into her grip. He’s so close to where she needs him. Her thighs clench as more wetness spills from her, her body so ready for him to fill her. Her hand moves faster over him, and he somehow feels even heavier in her grip.

“Wait,” he gasps. One of his hands leaves her to grasp her wrist, stopping her from pulling him over the brink. She thinks he’ll finally take her, and leans back on the ground, spreading her legs. The flowers under her feel so soft and wonderful, sending another wave of their scent around her. She looks up at the magical creature braced over her, his large hand holding his even larger cock, and feels entirely confident in her ability to take that entire thing into her. Her core throbs in anticipation. Her thighs spread even wider on the ground, inviting him between them. 

Ben’s mouth hangs open as he looks over her. He takes in her lips swollen from their kisses, her breasts reddened from his attentions, then down her muscled abdomen to where her cunt drips for him. Her chest swells with his regard, and she reaches out a hand to him, trying to pull him down to her. 

“Fuck me, Ben,” she says. 

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, almost pained, and shakes his head. She frowns and starts to push herself back up, but his hand lands in the center of her chest to keep her in place. “It’s my turn,” he says. She doesn’t understand until he moves himself further back and lowers his head down to her stomach. “I cannot live without tasting you,” he murmurs to her abs, before sucking at the skin just above her hip. 

She jumps a little, not expecting the cool press of his mouth, and his hand soothes her, rubbing down her chest to her stomach while he brings his head between her thighs. HIs other hand runs between her wet folds while he watches with intimate closeness. His antennae hover above her stomach, not quite touching. She shivers at the gust of his breath over her slick flesh, then cries out when his wandering fingers land on her most sensitive point. 

Ben immediately latches on to that small peak of nerves, dragging his fingers up from her entrance to circle it and back again until his hand is as coated in her wetness as her sex. Rey can’t keep from rocking her hips into his touch, but the gentle touch is nowhere near enough to fill the need inside of her. 

“More, Ben!” she cries, reaching down to sink her hands into his silky hair, careful even in her need to avoid the delicate looking antennae. 

He doesn’t protest. His mouth covers her sex, tongue slipping out to explore her folds, then curl around her clit. She shouts and tugs his hair. His lips curve against her sensitive flesh. He uses the hand resting on her stomach to wrap around her hip, tilting her up to him. His mouth lowers further until it seals over her entrance. His tongue drags its way down, making her writhe the whole way. It pushes against her entrance and then the long thin length slips inside. She can’t keep another cry from escaping her. She stares blindly at the full moon above her, sweet floral perfume saturating her lungs while her entire body clenches and rushes to her peak. Ben’s unfairly agile tongue flexes inside her, seeking out sensitive spots she didn’t even know she had. 

Ben moves a hand to press down at the top of her sex, thumb lowered to rub over her clit. HIs hair and ruff of fur brush softly against her inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming rush of sensation. She bucks under his touch, but he keeps her in place. There’s something incredibly freeing about being with this strange supernatural creature; she doesn’t have to worry about restraining herself or her magic. He can take whatever she can give and gives it back to her in turn. Her hands clench on the ground as her climax rolls over her. The smells of sex mix with the perfume of the flowers in a heady boquet. Rey screams Ben’s name into the night, and he doesn’t stop, working her through the waves of her pleasure. 

The height of Rey’s climax gradually passes, and Rey gains enough of her thoughts to remember her earlier goal. Her hands return to Ben’s hair, tugging it until he drags himself away from her cunt. He comes reluctantly and leaves wet kisses on her stomach, breasts, and chest along the way. He finally journeys all the way up to her mouth, and she kisses him hungrily. The taste of her pleasure on his lips sends another shock of want through her. Her thighs raise to clasp around his hips, and she wriggles until she finds his inhuman cock pressing just where she wants it. She arches her hips so that he drags through her wetness, coating them both. Their sounds of pleasure are lost in each other’s mouths. 

“Ben, now,” Rey says, lips moving against his. 

“Now,” he agrees. He reaches between them to angle himself to enter her.

The head of his cock brushes over her clit more than once, each time causing her to jump with the oversensitivity of her needy body. She brings her hand down to join his, and together they position his broad head to slip into her. Ben holds himself over her, looking down to where he slowly breeches her. She props herself on her elbows, their foreheads brushing as they watch his dark length finally sink in. She gasps at the penetration of the first of the thick ridges surrounding his cock. He stops immediately and her hands fly up to his shoulders, clutching at him. 

“Don’t stop,” she demands. “I need this Ben, I need you so much.”

He steals a swift kiss from her. “I feel it too,” he tells her. He guides her back to the ground and grips her thighs, raising her and spreading her for him. He pushes in and her cunt yields to him, taking one thick ridge after another. Her mouth falls open, but no sound emerges. It feels like he’s pushing the air out of her as he fills her, leaving room for nothing but him. He stretches her further than she thought she could manage, more than she’s ever taken before. Her muscles clench around him, clinging to each bump that sinks into her, sending electric waves of shock and pleasure throughout her core. The heavy weight of him inside her pins her to the ground. She’d never had any idea sex could be like this. 

Ben seems just as overwhelmed as her, pale chest heaving as he gulps in air. The corded muscles of his arms flex as he holds her to him, supporting her lower half as he angles her so that he can slip in even further. She hadn’t known she could be filled so much. His unnatural length keeps pushing into her after she’s sure he must have taken every last bit she has to give, but he keeps discovering new depths. He hesitates again when her moans pitch into a shriek, and she shakes her head, hair tangling with the flowers around her. 

“Give it to me, give me all of it,” she pants, the words barely coherent. Ben understands. 

Hands gripping her thighs nearly hard enough to bruise, he pushes in that last bit, until his thighs wedge against hers. She chants an endless chain of yeses and his name while he clenches his teeth, holding himself from the brink. He stays there, frozen, until she can’t take it any longer. His thick length throbs inside of her, teasing her. She can taste her climax in the scent of them and the flowers on the air, but she needs him to move, to take her, to bring them there together. She rolls her hips in his hold, sliding him ever so slightly in and out of her tight grasp. She groans in relief and Ben shouts, claws digging into her thighs.

“Ben,” she pleads. His dark eyes lock with hers. He lets out a shuddering breath and nods. 

Slowly, he pulls out of her, each delicious ridge dragging along her walls on the way. He’s barely more than halfway out before he can’t restrain himself any more and slams back into her, shocking a gasp out of them both. 

“Again,” Rey demands. Ben repeats the motion, a little faster now. 

When he fills her again, he stays for a moment, grinding against her. She arches, pressing herself onto him. She’s stretched so wide on him she has nowhere left to go, She grins fiercely. She did this; she took all of him. She leans forward until she can wrap her arms around his neck, needing to take his mouth again. Her thighs burn as he stretches over her, but it’s the kind of pleasant ache that pulls at her whole body now. As their tongues tangle, his hips retreat and return, slowly starting to build a rhythm between them. Her hips meet his with every thrust, the slick sounds of their fucking filling the moonlit field. She’s wetter than she’s ever been, and Ben was dripping before he sank into her. Their combined arousal spills over them both, coating her folds and lower. 

Ben shifts his grip on her, keeping one hand on her hip, her leg tossed over his arm, so he can hit her just where she needs, while his other hand wedges between her thighs. He brushes over her clit and she nearly screams. The bundle of nerves feels so sensitive that the simple touch sends her clenching around him so hard he can barely move. He thrusts again, ridged length dragging against her walls. Tears drip unbidden out of her eyes as her body tries to come to terms with everything happening to it. 

Ben’s free hand slps lower and his fingers trace her stretched entrance. She feels him at the boundary of the two of them and wishes she could see what he does, what it must look like to see his monster cock disappear into her body, to see her take all of him again and again. She can’t help but to clench and feels another wave of arousal at the thought. Ben groans and slams into her harder. 

In the slick mess between them, his hand drifts even lower, to the as of yet unused hole already wet with the arousal dripping from above. HIs finger gently prods at the furled entrance, and it yields easier than she would have expected. HIs thick finger pushes up into her ass, and her mind goes blank for a second. 

When she can see again, Ben’s finger is thrusting gently in and out in time with his cock. She looks up to see his black gaze locked on hers, as if waiting for her to protest. She knows he’d stop immediately if she did, but instead she digs her nails into his back and gives him a single word: “ _More._ ”

Ben sucks in a breath. His wings flare out over them, blocking out the moon, before settling back into their protective cocoon around them. He doesn’t deny her, and a second finger tests the edge of her entrance before pushing in to join the first. She gasps, but again the stretch is easier than she expects. She’s played with her ass before, and while she’s certainly wet enough to take whatever Ben gives her, she’d usually need more prep. She wonders idly if one of the properties of the flower affecting them is some kind of relaxant. It could help explain how easily he fit into her, and her mind starts to consider other possibilities for such a discovery before her attention is drawn sharply back by the press of yet another finger against her ring of muscle. 

Three of Ben’s fingers is no small feat, and the stretch only adds to the overwhelming blur of sensation coming from every part of her body. She moves uncontrollably against him, wanting the fullness of him filling her everywhere he can, wanting the rhythm of him pulling out and shoving his way back in. They're too wet for real friction, but the bumps and angles of his cock, the irregular shape of his fingers pulling in and out of her, give her the sensation she needs. His ridges drag back and forth through the sensitive walls inside her, never hitting the same way twice. The two of them can't stay still, can't get enough of each other. Their mouths devour each other, tongues and lips and teeth. 

One of Rey's hands clutches her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple, needing that added bite. Ben reacts the same way to her nails scratching over his shoulder blades, above where his wings fit into the muscles of his back. The inky shrouds flutter above them as they both climb towards their peaks. Crimson-red petals from the flowers under them stick to Rey's sweat-slick body. Ben's thrusts gain speed and depth as he edges closer. Rey claws at him, refusing to let him draw any further away than necessary. The stretch of him everywhere pushes her rapidly to another peak.

Ben is right there with her. "Rey, I can't -- I'm --" he gasps.

A flash of _something_ hits here. “Not in there,” she pants.

He doesn't fully stop, unable to keep his hips from rolling against her, just as she can't keep from pushing back onto him. "What--?"

With a groan that sounds ripped from his soul, he pulls the full length of his cock from her, every ridge of it rubbing against her on the way out. She gives a small cry and another wave of pleasure ripples through her. Ben's brilliant black eyes squeeze closed, their red glow briefly extinguished as he grips the base of his cock. She looks down to find him holding the heavy length over her belly, fist working quickly over it to bring him to climax. He drips with their combined arousal, and the uniform ridges she'd seen earlier have distended into a strange pattern of bulges. 

"No," she almost shouts, hand covering his. 

His eyes fly back open, wide and desperate. "Rey--" he pleads. 

Wordlessly, she uses her grip to guide him back between her legs, down to where his fingers had filled her. It's an awkward angle, but it doesn't take him long to realize what she wants. The sound he makes could be a word, but it’s in no language she recognizes. His black eyes burn her as they search her expression. She doesn’t relent, and with a groan of relief, he pushes in. 

Stretched and relaxed as she is, he’s still too large to fill her completely without more time and care than either of them have the patience for at the moment. He sinks as far as her body lets him, each bulge feeling even larger as they wedge into her ass than they had in her pussy. He withdraws, and as the first wide ring slips out of her, another rush of pleasure arcs like lightning from her core, up through her chest. 

Ben keeps going, unable to stop himself now. She’s never come so much and would have thought she’d have nothing left in her, but Ben and the flowers clinging to her refuse to let her rest. Ben moves in quick jerks now, one thick bump of his impossible cock pulling in and out of her, keeping her on the edge of pleasure. She can feel how close he is in the clench of his hand on her thigh. He babbles a stream of words that make no sense to her, but she catches her name, and she echoes it back to him in return. 

Apparently determined to bring her over one last time with him, Ben brings the hand that had been guiding her hip down to her cunt. He ghosts around her clit and lower to her now empty cunt. He slides a finger in, then returns with more. She can’t tell how many, but it fills her, giving her the pressure she needs. Her breath hitches as she edges back towards her climax. Everything is so much. The smell of him, her, the night, the flowers; the taste of him underlain with her own arousal; the frantic sounds they make into each other's mouths barely covering the slap of flesh; the feel of him filling her mouth, her cunt, her ass, her lungs, her head.

Ben falls over the edge first. More wetness pours into her, but instead of just liquid, like a human cock, she feels the strange bumps inside of his erection push further along its length. The first pops into her, round and slick, and she groans, but not as loudly as Ben. The distant curious part of her mind tries to think about eggs and nonhuman reproduction, while the rest of her can’t think past the overwhelming pleasure. It’s better than any sex toy, both firm and flexible, constantly moving with the irregular force of Ben’s thrusts. She senses no spark of new life from it, leaving nothing but pleasure.

His hand keeps moving in her cunt, palm occasionally brushing over her clit as he works through his climax. The next next bulge pushes out of his cock and into her, and she feels a third pressing into her. The two roll against each other, creating sensations she didn’t know were possible. It’s unending, the jolts of pleasure her body keeps sending her. She’s twitching, writhing, bliss rolling through her again as the third round bulge joins the first two inside of her. Ben’s voice reaches a new pitch as he fills her with one final thrust before collapsing over her. 

They lay there together, gasping for breath, until Rey pushes at Ben’s shoulders. 

“Heavy,” she grunts. Her lungs can’t keep up with him on top of her. 

He grunts in response and turns onto his side, taking her with him. Her face lands in the ruff of fur at his neck and she sighs with pleasure, nuzzling into it. She smells him stronger here, that silvered moonlight and honey. Her hands wrap around his neck, still occasionally digging into his shoulders. She keeps twitching, his softening cock and -- eggs? -- still inside of her. Her arousal remains simmering, just on the edge of mind, ready for her to sink into it again, but her body needs some time to catch up. Ben has one arm under their heads and the other smoothes over her back, from her shoulders to the curve of her ass. He lingers a while there, not far above where they’re still joined. 

“Okay?” he asks into her hair. She’s almost too content to respond, body relaxing into his touch. “Witch?” he tries again.

“Mmm,” she says, and tilts her head up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Okay,” she agrees.

His shoulders relax under her touch. “Good.” His hand massages back up and down her back. “Thank you.”

She snorts. “Do you say that to all the witches you find out here?” she teases. 

Ben takes her words to heart though. He sits up a little to look down at her. “Just you,” he swears. Rey can tell from the intensity in his words and his expression that he means it. “It could only be you.”

There’s more to that statement, she knows, but she can’t muster up the energy to work it out right now. She’s drifting between arousal and sleep, the moon slipping away in the sky above them. She has so many questions about him, his magic, what he knows, what he can do. She looks forward to asking him all of them.

For now, she settles back into her mothman’s gentle caresses. Her body can’t conceive of moving until after they’ve gotten a nap. She drapes one leg over his, keeping him close, and he hums in approval. His wings flutter from behind him and one spreads over them, protecting their damp skin from the night air. She looks up to see his black eyes half-closed watching her, a smile on his lips. He brushes a kiss over her forehead. Her eyes slip close and she smiles too.

She sleeps with her head cushioned by red petals and Ben’s chest and dreams of nothing but him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always appreciated! <3 It really does mean a lot to hear what you all think. 
> 
> If you enjoy this, I've also written [more mothlo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480310) and [more sex pollen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158266).
> 
> You can also find me on [pillowfort as thelastjedi](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/906830), [tumblr as thewayofthetrashcompactor](https://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com/post/617231988714258432/ive-been-having-emotions-over-this-edit-by), and [twitter as briartrash](https://twitter.com/briartrash/status/1257464796305293313)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Crimson Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034587) by [persimonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/pseuds/persimonne)




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